


The Trial

by quillingyousoftly



Series: MCU Kink Bingo fills [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Bleeding Out, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Hunters & Hunting, Injury, M/M, Making Out, Minor Character Death, Skinny Dipping, Voyeurism, dead dog mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillingyousoftly/pseuds/quillingyousoftly
Summary: "You'll enter the woods in groups, each five minutes apart," Pierce explained, his voice lowered now that everyone listened in silence. "After the last group enters, your week of trial begins. Bear in mind, this is just a beginning; after you complete the trial, your Hydra training will start. If you can't survive the trial, you won't survive the training, so if you don't feel up to this, speak now."He paused, and Jack cast a look around, but no one even twitched."Remember, this year Hydra is looking to induct only ten recruits," Pierce continued."What if more survive?" A young man asked.Pierce shot him a cold look. "They won't."
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: MCU Kink Bingo fills [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626025
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the "AU: The Hunger Games" square on my MCU Kink Bingo card.
> 
> If you've been reading my works for a while now, you might have noticed I'm not good at AUs. I make everything canon compliant by default, so for this, I took the concept of The Hunger Games and incorporated it into the MCU in a way it (hopefully!) makes sense.

Jack was tense as he stood at the edge of the woods, surrounded by a crowd of Hydra recruits, some with their recruiters and some on their own. He was not used to so many people in one place, especially after months he had just spent in the woods on his own. He was glad Garrett was with him. His recruiter looked bored as he idled beside him with his hand casually resting on his shoulder.

"Did you know it would be the woods?" Jack inquired softly, staring at the trees growing densely before him.

"I suspected," Garrett replied. "The woods are preferable, but sometimes the heads feel more sadistic and choose a desert or a rainforest." He nodded to himself. "They didn't use a rainforest in a while. Perhaps because it was too difficult to survive the wildlife."

Jack hummed to himself, his gaze travelling higher up the trees. There was bound to be wildlife in the woods, too; because of that, he had learned to live in the trees but also to hunt. At first, when Garrett left him on his own in the middle of a forest, he was angry. Now, he was thankful; Garrett did everything he could to ready him for his one-week survival trial before the Hydra Induction Ceremony.

Garrett squeezed his shoulder. "Eyes lower, boy. Remember what I told you."

With a slight scowl, Jack dropped his gaze to the recruits around. One thing that differed Garrett's training from Hydra's trial was their presence. Garrett had said they were more dangerous than wildlife, poison ivy, and treacherous roots and branches; Hydra would only take a limited number of recruits, so they took it upon themselves to eliminate their competition. Because of that, it was wise to form or join an alliance to have someone watching your six at all times.

Most of the recruits stood alone like Jack or in pairs, but there was one group that caught his attention. As he watched them, he realized it wasn't as much a group as one recruit surrounded by a circle of others attracted to him like moths to a flame. Jack didn't blame them; an air of confidence surrounded him, and he looked muscular and strong. He was a far cry from an insecure, scrawny Jack.

"Good thinking," Garrett said suddenly, and Jack’s attention snapped back to him. "That's a winning team if I ever saw one."

"Doesn't look like a team," Jack protested. "More like a crowd around a leader."

"Still better than being on your own." Garrett nodded at the young man Jack described as a leader. "That's Brock Rumlow. He's  _ Secretary Pierce's  _ recruit." They exchanged glances, Jack's wide one with Garrett's meaningful one. "Yeah, our cell's head. If there's one leaving those woods alive in a week it's him, so stick to him and you'll be fine."

Jack's gaze returned to Brock, who was grinning cheekily as he listened to a taller man on his right talk. Suddenly, he burst into laughter, a guttural, smoky sound that settled in the pit of Jack’s stomach.

"Attention!" he heard and his eyes snapped to a man in his late fifties approaching the edge of the woods. Unlike the recruits and their recruiters who wore tactical survival gear, he was dressed in a tailored suit and radiated air of authority. Jack immediately guessed he was Secretary Alexander Pierce.

"Attention, recruits!" Pierce repeated and waited for a moment until he held their undivided attention. "Move out!"

Garrett squeezed Jack's shoulder for the last time before letting go, and Jack approached the crowd of recruits gathering at the edge of the woods with his breath held in his lungs. 

"You'll enter the woods in groups, each five minutes apart," Pierce explained, his voice lowered now that everyone listened in silence. "After the last group enters, your week of trial begins. Bear in mind, this is just a beginning; after you complete the trial, your Hydra training will start. If you can't survive the trial, you won't survive the training, so if you don't feel up to this, speak now."

He paused, and Jack cast a look around, but no one even twitched. 

"Remember, this year Hydra is looking to induct only ten recruits," Pierce continued.

"What if more survive?" A young man asked, the tall one who had talked to Brock before.

Pierce shot him a cold look. "They won't."

A chill ran down Jack's spine at those ominous words, and he forced himself not to look over his shoulder at Garrett. He couldn't help but estimate the number of recruits around him. He couldn't count every head as Pierce's men started dividing the crowd into groups, but there were about fifty. Twenty percent of survival. Those odds weren't good, but Jack believed that if he stuck to his plan to keep to the trees, they would be in his favor.

Pierce's men pushed him towards a group, and his eyes met Brock's. This close, Jack realized Brock was good five inches shorter than him. Brock smirked at him, and Jack looked away awkwardly. 

Soon, their group was ordered to enter, and Jack followed Brock and his buds into the woods. He stayed behind, and once he was out of everyone's sight, swiftly climbed the nearest tree. He was lucky; the trees here grew so densely, their branches were entwined, and he could easily pass from one to another.

He followed Brock's group, but they didn't get far before Brock stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" asked the tall one who had been walking by Brock's right side while the rest of the group remained behind them. Perhaps they knew each other better than the rest.

"Let's wait for Hauer and his group," Brock replied. "They're right behind us."

"Let's ditch them. You heard Pierce. Only ten will survive. There's already six of us, man, they're competition."

"It'll be ten with them," Brock said sharply. "Chill, Russ. We'll be fine."

Russ turned on his heel and kicked a pebble. As soon as he did, Brock looked up, straight at Jack. Jack froze. He was sure Brock couldn't see him through the leaves and in his camouflage gear, but he could feel his gaze on his body. 

"I think they're coming," another one said. He had a thick brown beard and long hair tied on the back of his neck. He was the only one with a rifle hanging from his shoulder.

Jack followed his line of sight and saw them, too; a group of four men led by a young, dark-haired one—he couldn't be more than nineteen. He approached Brock's group with a grin.

"Yo, we're back," he announced. "Thanks for waiting."

Brock nodded. "Of course, Hauer."

"Where to now?"

All attention focused on Brock. He surveyed the trees, his gaze pausing on the one Jack was hiding in for a moment longer.

"We can't stay here," he decided. "We're too close to the edge; we'll run outta supplies in no time. Anyone else here can hunt?"

Russ, the man with the rifle, and the three men who had come with Hauer raised their hands.

"So we're good." Brock nodded at a path between the trees. "Let's go north towards the center. We need more space to set up camp. Stay on high alert."

Russ readied his gun and stepped in front of Brock, leading the group. The bearded man walked last with his rifle in his hands, watching their six. Jack followed them. For a long while nothing was happening. Tension left the group, and they started talking and laughing. Even Russ dropped his hand, though he was still holding the gun. 

Finally, they reached a clearing right by a stream, and Brock signaled for the group to stop. While they were setting camp, pulling out tents and sleeping bags and gathering dry branches for a campfire, Brock walked around the clearing, surveying its surroundings. For all he was joking and laughing with the rest, Jack could see the tension in his shoulders. After a second lap, he didn't notice any danger and walked over to Russ to help him with a tent.

Jack found a thick branch to sit on and relaxed against the trunk. He set his backpack between the branches nearby and took out a pack of beef jerky to eat. He watched two men build a fire and shivered. Dusk was falling, making the temperature drop. Jack zipped his jacket up to his neck and dug out a blanket from the bottom of his backpack. He fell asleep to the chatter and the crackling fire below.

He woke up to the sound of plashing. He yawned and stretched, his spine popping pleasantly, and caught his blanket before it fell onto the tents below. He sat up straight and, rubbing sleep from his eyes, looked at the camp.

The group seemed to be asleep in their tents; Jack could even hear snoring. Only the bearded man was sitting at the campfire with his rifle in his lap, surveying the surroundings. He was facing away from the stream, and Jack looked that way, curious to see what woke him up.

He saw a pile of black clothes on the ground first, then a flash of olive skin. Intrigued, he stood up and, still wrapped in his blanket, soundlessly crossed from one branch to another to see better. He came as close to the stream as possible and crouched down with his breath held in his lungs.

It was Brock standing in the shallow water that barely reached his hips. He was bent forward with his wet hair falling over his face as he washed his head. Jack looked over his glistening, muscular arms and back, watched the drops run down and slow as they reached the rise of his ass before returning to the stream. Jack put a hand on his knife's handle, but didn't pull it out yet. He was just making sure Brock was safe, never mind he was more focused on him than his surroundings and any potential danger that might have been hiding nearby.

Brock threw his hair back and wiped water away from his eyes. Jack watched his hands run down his pecs and stomach, his fingers slipping between the dark curls below—

Brock turned around towards the stream bank, and Jack's eyes snapped away to the nearby bushes, his face burning. He scanned the bushes, but there was no one hiding in them and waiting to strike.

"Hey, Bass!" Brock called. Jack looked his way just in time to see his pale ass disappear under the black fabric of his tact pants. "You can go, the water's warm!"

"Yeah, a real hot spring," the bearded man, Bass, bit back. 

Brock messed up his neat ponytail with a barking laugh. He didn't put the rest of his clothes on; rather sat in the sunlight to let his skin dry. Bass only huffed in annoyance and smoothed down his hair.

"What's the plan?" he asked after a moment of silence. "We could make Hauer climb trees for some eggs."

Jack froze. He wanted to keep his presence secret. There was no telling how Brock would react to a stranger in the trees following his team.

But Brock laughed again. "Yeah, go ahead, tell him. See how well it goes."

"Tell who what?"

Russ crawled out of his tent and straightened up with a yawn. His hair was sticking out in all directions. 

"Hauer to climb trees for eggs," Brock explained.

Russ burst out laughing while Bass crossed his arms over his chest, even more disgruntled than before. 

"Well, what do you guys wanna do, pick berries or some shit? I ain't eating jerky for breakfast  _ again _ ."

Russ scoffed and reached inside his tent to pull out a crossbow. "I ain't picking berries like a fucking sissy. Gonna shoot some hares." He yawned. "I could use some coffee though."

"I have instant," Brock offered.

"Ew."

Russ turned around and walked away between the trees.

"He shouldn't go alone, should he?" Bass asked. Brock only shook his head. Bass stood up with a grunt. "You gonna be okay?"

"Sure, it's not like I'm alone."

Bass nodded and followed Russ. Brock relaxed against a tree with a sigh and looked up, straight at Jack. 

"Am I?"

Jack stood still and held his breath. They didn't catch eye contact, and he was still sure Brock couldn't see him, but he had been looking his way far too often, and now talking to him. Maybe he couldn't see him, but he knew he was followed. Jack's hand wrapped around his knife handle again, but otherwise, he didn't even twitch.

"Suit yourself," Brock said and seemingly lost interest. He reached inside his backpack and pulled out rifle parts to assemble. 

Jack cursed under his breath and looked around for the most discreet avenue of escape. He could back away and then climb the tree behind him. But Brock was fast and efficient, and Jack only managed to step onto another branch when the rifle was assembled. He froze and took the knife, but Brock didn't jump to his feet with the gun trained on him like he expected, just rested it in his lap, his eyes scanning his surroundings.

More teammates crawled out of their tents, and soon all eight were surrounding the campfire, boiling water for coffee, talking and joking. One man, Smith, was eating his jerky while the rest waited for the hares. Jack's stomach grumbled, and he dug out some of his own supplies from his backpack. He had just enough left to last him a day; in the evening, he'd need to abandon the group to replenish them.

Russ and Bass returned soon after with four hares, to the cheers of the group. The air filled with a smell of coffee, and once hares were skinned and placed above the fire, the smell of meat, but Jack, with his stomach full of jerky, didn't mind. He relaxed on the branch he was sitting on, cut off a thick piece and began whittling while listening to what was going on below.

"What do we do next?" Hauer asked. "We stay here and hunt for a week?"

"For now, until someone finds us," Brock replied darkly.

"Shouldn't we be looking for them?" Russ asked to the voices of approval. "They're the ones that should be afraid, not us."

"They were trained just like us. They're just as capable."

"But there's ten of us."

"And thirty-nine of them."

Russ scoffed. "Of course. I forgot you're always right."

Sensing the tension, Jack looked down at the group. Russ was glaring at Brock, but Brock was more interested in his meal. 

"Yes, I am," he said calmly. "That's why you're following me and not the other way around." When a silence fell, he sighed, put away the small bones he was picking off meat of, and looked around the group. "Yes, we're good, that's why we're here, but so are they. It ain’t smart to underestimate them. We ain’t here to kill each other, we're here to survive. We're lucky we have good hunters." He nodded at Russ and Bass. "All the guys here can fight, but not everyone can fend for themselves, not everyone is resourceful. Those are the recruits Hydra’s looking to eliminate, because they have no need for an agent who dies when things get a little difficult."

"That's what Pierce told you?" Smith asked.

Brock helped himself to another piece of hare. "Precisely."

"Then why did he say only ten will survive?" Russ asked. "Don't tell me he knows how many of us are hunters. If all of us had the same training, then there has to be more. What if he's wrong? What if more of us live? What then?" Jack held his breath, waiting for Brock's answer, but it never came. Russ scoffed. "You don't know."

"He doesn't tell me everything, alright?" Brock barked. "He learns about every recruit. Chances are, he already picked his ten. The ones he told me to lead." He looked around the group. "Which are you lot."

The argument ended at that, Russ having accepted Brock's explanation, but it made Jack's blood run cold. If Brock was right that Pierce already had his mind set on ten specific recruits and he wasn't one of them, then his chances of survival were far lower than he had estimated. He clenched his fists around the knife and the piece of wood he was holding. Fucking Garrett, getting him into this mess...

He took a deep breath and shook his head at himself. He couldn't think that; Garrett dug him out of prison and offered a chance for a better life. He took him under his wing, taught him everything he knew, but it was still just a chance. Jack's future was in his own hands.

He spent the rest of the day in the tree while Brock's team gathered supplies, stood watch over the camp, or washed in the stream. When the sun began to set, he walked onto the trees farther from the camp to safely climb down and gather his own supplies. He picked a cup of berries and was tucking it away in his backpack when he heard something behind him. He spun around with his knife drawn, ready to throw, but the last rays of sunshine faded away, and in the dark he could only see a silhouette behind the trees. He froze, and so did the other person. He stared at it for so long he started thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him and it was just a bush, but then the person moved. Jack didn't wait for them to attack; he turned around and ran away, stopping after a few feet to jump and grab onto a lower branch. He climbed high until he felt safe enough to sit down and catch his breath. When he looked down, the path was empty.

Keeping to the trees, he circled back to the camp, just to see Brock enter it from the opposite side.

"Where've you been?" Russ asked, mildly interested.

"I thought I saw someone lurking around," Brock replied, sitting down by the fire. He helped himself to a warmed up can of food. 

"And?"

Brock shrugged. "Nothing."

Jack froze on the branch he was crouching on. Did Brock follow him? Why did he lie?

The team set the watch schedule and, one by one, disappeared inside their tents, finally leaving Brock alone with the rifle in his lap. He didn't try to talk to Jack again, but Jack was still too anxious to fall asleep, and when he finally did, it was light and restless.

When a turmoil woke him up, it was still dark. He rubbed his eyes, sat up and looked down, squinting to make sense of what he was seeing in shaky beams of light from the team's flashlights. A sudden spike of adrenaline successfully roused him when he saw a stranger holding a knife to Brock's throat and another two pointing their rifles at the team flocked together on the other side of the camp.

"Drop your supplies over there!" The one with the knife demanded. "Don't try anything funny or he dies!"

Jack's knife was already in his hand, but he hesitated, hearing Russ's voice.

"Why should we care? We need those supplies more than we need him."

The attackers hesitated, exchanging glances in consternation. Using their distraction, Brock looked straight up at Jack's tree. Letting out a shaky breath, Jack pulled himself up to his feet, and holding himself steady with one hand on a branch, he focused on his target and took a swing.

The attacker screamed in surprise when the knife lodged itself in his arm and let go of Brock, who spun around and socked him across the jaw while his allies watched on, stunned. Russ was the first to react; he picked up his gun from the ground and fired, and a moment later Bass did the same with his rifle. The attackers fired back, but Russ's next shots were lethal. Seeing both of his allies drop dead, the attacker with the knife fled. Brock didn't chase him.

"Yeah, and don't come back!" Hauer hollered, but the rest of the team were already checking on Brock.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Brock calmed them. "The bastard just nicked me."

Bass picked up Jack's knife from the ground. "Who threw this?"

"A friend." Brock took the knife from him and lodged it high in the trunk of Jack's tree. "I tried to coax him down, but he's shy."

"Wait a minute. Someone has been following us all this time?" Russ asked. "And you didn't say a goddamn word about it?!"

"I have a better question: why should you care if someone kills me?!" Brock shot back.

Russ raised his hands defensively. "I was obviously stalling for time. Ya know that, right?" He looked about the men gathered around, and though no one nodded, no one also protested. "Can we come back to that part where we've been followed by a potential enemy and you didn't even warn us?"

"I wasn't sure if we were followed," Brock countered. "Call it a feeling. If you didn't sense him, then I have bad news for ya."

A tense silence fell. Jack took a deep breath, climbed onto the lower branches, then braced himself and jumped to the ground. The two men that stood the nearest to the tree flinched away, startled. All flashlights were aimed at him, and he squinted as he straightened up.

"Hi," he said awkwardly. 

Brock's team proceeded to stare at him. Even Brock looked at him closely, assessing him. Suddenly, someone chuckled.

"You got a big entrance, man," Hauer said. "I like your style."

"Who the hell are you?" Another man asked.

"Jack."

"Jack?" Russ repeated in disbelief. "What do you think you're doing, following us?"

Jack didn't have a good answer to that, so he just shrugged.

"Leave it, Russ," Hauer said. "It was a good thing he did. We'd be in a shittone of trouble if he didn't help us."

"We still are," Russ protested. "Am I the only one seeing the problem here? Do I seriously need to spell it out for ya?" He pointed at Jack accusingly. "With him, there's  _ eleven _ of us."

Another tense silence fell between them, the team giving Jack uneasy looks. This time, it was interrupted by a voice from far back.

"Might be ten again, soon."

The group turned around and parted, revealing another man propped up against a tree. In the yellow light of the flashlights, they noticed he was bleeding from a hole high in his chest. 

"Oh man," Russ hissed to himself and approached his friend with Jack on his heels, who knelt down in front of him. 

"Hi, I'm Jack. I'm not sure you heard that."

"I did. Name's Rick."

"Mind if I take a look at that?"

Rick shook his head, so Jack tilted him carefully to look at his back. He cursed under his breath and turned around to the rest of the team that had gathered behind him to watch. 

"Anyone here has experience digging out bullets?"

Brock looked around, and seeing no one else volunteered, he grimaced and raised his hand. He then pulled out a pocket knife, opened it, and approached them. Jack nodded at him and stood up. 

"I'll get my med kit."

Jack retrieved both the knife and his backpack from his tree and washed his hands as best he could in the stream. When he got back, Brock was focused on digging out the bullet with his knife. Rick growled through his greeted teeth. Blood poured freely over Brock's knife and hands and down Rick's chest, soaking his t-shirt. Jack knelt down beside them, took out his med kit from his backpack, and readied a compress and a suturing kit.

"Don't just stand around," Brock barked over his shoulder. "We'll need clean water and rations."

Jack could hear Russ barking orders as he watched the knife prod the wound. Rick's face shone with sweat, and he growled louder, the back of his head hitting the tree trunk.

"I almost got it," Brock soothed him. "Just need another minute."

The knife slowly retracted, and Rick shrieked when the tip pushed the bullet out. Jack reacted immediately, pressing the wound.

"Press this, please," he said as Brock wiped the knife on the grass. 

Brock reacted with a little jolt of surprise, and his hand brushed Jack's as he reached out to hold the compress to the wound. Jack pretended he didn't notice and focused on getting the iodine and the needle. He gently uncovered the wound and cleaned it.

"This is going to hurt," he warned Rick, who was breathing a little easier. “Don’t move.”

Rick flinched when the needle pierced the skin, but stilled himself immediately.

"Where'd you get that from?" Brock nodded at the needle. "We don't have those. I don't think any of us is trained in stitching."

"Garrett," Jack replied. "To be honest, I don't think I'm supposed to have it, it's SHIELD's. And I wasn't trained exactly. Had to do that in prison occasionally."

Brock raised his eyebrows. "To yourself?"

"Among others. Were you trained in digging out bullets?" Brock didn't respond, but Jack thought he knew the answer, anyway. He glanced up at Rick, who had his eyes closed and his face twisted in pain. "Rick? You with me, buddy?"

Rick opened one eye to peek at Jack. "Uh-huh," he said through gritted teeth.

"You got any unusual skills?" Jack asked in an attempt to distract him, but Rick was having none of it.

"How long is it going to take?"

"I'm almost done."

"It's looking good," Brock assured him. "You're not dying tonight."

Rick offered a pale smile. Jack tied the last knot, dressed the wound, and packed his supplies.

"You'll need to get this looked at as soon as possible," he said. "I'm not a doctor, and the conditions are less than sterile."

"Thank you." Rick's voice was hoarse. Someone handed him a water bottle. 

Russ patted Brock's shoulder and nodded to follow him away from the clearing. Jack stood up, feeling eyes on himself. He suspected his fate was about to be decided. 

First rays of sunshine shone through the trees, and the group started talking about breakfast. They dispersed, leaving only Bass sitting at Rick's side. Jack sighed and walked over to his tree to return to the safety of its thick branches. Bass watched him climb, but didn't stop him.

When Russ and Brock returned, Jack had already eaten his berries and started whittling. Both their expressions were grave, and Russ's even enraged. He joined the group around the fire without another glance Brock's way.

"Where’d he go?" Brock asked, and Bass nodded at Jack's tree.

Jack sighed, bracing himself. He wouldn't be surprised if Brock tried to kill him after all. Only ten could survive, and saving Rick, Jack minimized his chances at being warmly welcomed to the team. So he got his feet under him in a crouch, ready to flee at the barest hint of hostility.

Brock didn't reach for a weapon though, but started climbing, stopping only when he was high enough for them to see each other's face. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"That depends," Jack replied, watching him warily. "Are your intentions friendly?"

"You saved my life; what d’you think?"

"I think your life wasn't actually in danger. Your men wouldn't have let you die."

"It didn't sound like they cared about me that much."

They sized each other up until finally Jack relaxed and nodded at the space beside him. Brock climbed onto Jack's branch and sat down. He didn't say anything, so Jack returned to whittling. He could feel Brock watching his hands work.

"What’re ya doing there?" Brock asked finally.

"Passing the time." Jack showed him a little goose he had been working on.

Brock leaned in to get a better look. "Wow. You’ve got talent."

Jack couldn't help a little smile. "Skill, more like. It's something to do to busy your hands."

"Let me guess—you're an ex-smoker."

Jack nodded with another smile and focused on the goose again. Brock let out a long, loud sigh.

"So you're Jack Rollins."

That made Jack really look at him. Brock was watching him with curious, dark eyes. Jack sat up a little straighter.

"You heard of me?"

Brock nodded. "Pierce told me to look out for you. He's always pleased with Garrett's recruits. He expects you to be either a great ally or a great enemy of mine."

"Garrett told me to stick to you." Jack looked him up and down and cracked another small smile. He didn't remember when was the last time he was smiling this much. "I don't think I could take you in a fight."

Brock raised his eyebrows at that. "A big man like you couldn't take little ol' me?"

Jack shook his head. "Size isn't everything. I saw you move. You'd have me on the ground within seconds." He sighed. "I'm good with throwing knives and the sniper rifle, but not hand to hand. I hunt, I patch up wounds, but I'm not good with people."

The sound of Brock's unguarded laughter was surprising. "Yeah, no shit?! You fucking hid from us in the trees." Brock cast a look around, pausing at the backpack nested in between the branches. "This can't be comfortable."

"Not just from you. Wolves, boars. Enemies." Jack sighed and rested his hands in his lap, no longer able to focus on whittling. "You're not here to small talk."

Brock shook his head. "Russ wants you gone. I told him to suck ass, but he's right in that I have a problem on my hands, and I ain’t sure what to do about it."

Jack looked down at the camp. The men's hushed conversation kept being interrupted by bursts of loud laughter. 

"You lied to them," he realized. Brock looked at him questioningly. "When you told them Pierce made you lead them. If he mentioned me to you and he wants only ten recruits, then one of them—" Jack nodded at the camp— "Shouldn't be here."

"You forgot to mention you were smart like hell," Brock said with a grimace. "This ain’t what your recruiters told you it is. It's a test alright, but for me and my team. And you're a part of it, so congratulations and try not to die."

Brock stood up to climb down, but Jack stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Brock shot him a glare, and Jack pulled his hand back, but didn't apologize.

"Who's the odd one out?"

Brock sent him a nasty smile. "Why won't you tell me, smart guy? Who's the most troublesome here?"

With that, he climbed down and joined the rest of his team. Seeing it, Russ stood up. He wasn't amused like the rest of his teammates. The conversation died out, the men watching Brock curiously.

"He's staying with us," Brock announced.

"We can't stay here," Russ said, seemingly ignoring what Brock said. "We're sitting ducks; we need a more secure area."

"You won't find a better place for a camp than near water," Brock countered. "They need to be a little open if you want space to sleep on. Or you can take Jack's example and live in a tree."

Russ's cheeks burned crimson. "I'm a far better example than that creep." He looked around to see if anyone agreed with him. "If you don't wanna move, then we should at least hunt the others down before they do us. Who's with me?"

"What do you think you're doing here, Russ?" Brock asked before anyone responded. "A revolution?"

"I'm trying to make you see reason. All of you." He turned to the team. "If Rumlow doesn't want us to kill the others, then we're all dead with him as a leader. It doesn't matter what Pierce said; he ain't here, and we ain't safe what was just proven. Am I the only one here with some self-preservation left? Are ya gonna blindly follow Rumlow like he's some kinda god?"

Rick was the first to speak up. "Well, I ain't going anywhere."

Russ nodded at Rick's dressed wound. "It wouldn't have happened to you if Rumlow listened to me and set up a plan to hunt them down."

"But it did. Will you fix my stitches if they tear?"

Russ didn't respond. Smith stood up.

"To hell with that. I'm not sitting on my ass, waiting to be shot."

He joined Russ's side, him and Brock sizing each other up. Brock didn't say anything though, just let it happen. Another man stood up and followed Smith, but the rest didn't move.

"I can't stop ya," Brock said with his arms crossed over his chest.

Russ nodded at him and ordered his new team to grab their gear and move out. A few moments later, they disappeared behind the trees.

"Jack? You still with us? Or are ya with them now?"

Jack chucked his goose at him in response. Brock easily caught it, and Jack thought he saw him smile as he looked at it. He pocketed it and nodded at his team.

"We can't stay here either. If Russ ain't with us, he's against us. He'll come looking for us."

"Let me guess—not to apologize and ask us to take him back?" Hauer asked. He stood up and nodded at his friends to pack their tents. 

"How are you, Rick?" Brock asked.

"I'm okay."

"He shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting," Bass interjected. Brock nodded.

The team finished packing up, and Brock led them away from the stream, the opposite way Russ went off to. Jack joined them on the ground and fell in step with Brock, who smirked at him.

"Welcome to Earth," he joked. "We come in peace."

"I'm guessing that's your problem solved," Jack murmured low enough for only Brock to hear him.

Brock grimaced. "Not at all. I lost two teammates and I still need to kill Russ."

"Sorry if I'm prying, but why didn't you do that right away?"

They walked in silence for a longer while, and Jack was about to apologize when Brock finally answered.

"Cause I've known him since before Hydra. He was the only friendly face when I came here. Don't get me wrong, we were never really friends, but we got along."

A sudden chill ran down Jack's spine and he shivered slightly as he remembered Garrett's last test for him. In the past months in the woods, he wasn't alone; he had a dog with him, and Garrett's last test was simple—kill it. It was the hardest one yet, not only because the dog had been his companion. It seemed Hydra went a step further with Brock—instead of a dog, they told him to kill a person he liked.

Suddenly, Brock stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Bear trap!" he warned and turned back to the others. "Look out for traps!"

Jack looked down, his eyes going wide at the sight of a bear trap he would have stepped on. He cursed himself in his thoughts; he couldn't afford to drop his guard even among friends.

"Draw your weapons!" Brock ordered. "We're on somebody's turf!"

He had his pistol out, but the rest of the team wasn't as fast. A shot rang above them, and they scattered.

"Get down! Find cover!"

Tripping over roots and their own legs, Brock and Jack dove behind a tree. Brock peeked out from behind it with his gun raised while Jack crouched down to retrieve rifle parts from his backpack and assemble it.

"A sniper from above," Brock said as more shots hit the ground near the opposite trees where a couple of their teammates hid. "West from here."

Still crouched, Jack raised his sniper rifle and scanned the trees on his right. He wouldn't have noticed the man dressed in camo if it wasn't for his pale face.

"Target acquired," he murmured.

"Is there only one?" Brock asked.

"One sniper," Jack confirmed. "He might have friends on ground, though."

Brock nodded, scanning the area, but didn't notice anybody. "Shoot."

Jack let out a breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit his target in the chest, and he fell from the tree with a loud thud.

"Clear," Jack said, lowering his rifle.

The team met on the path they had walked. Jack noticed one of Hauer's friends was missing.

"Where's Brian?" Brock asked.

"Didn't make it," Hauer replied emotionlessly.

Brock pursed his lips, nodding, and gestured for them to follow him away from the path. They stopped upon reaching a tiny clearing with just enough space for a campfire.

"Russ was right about one thing," Brock said as they gathered around him. "We were too open back there. So here, I wanna see only three tents between the bushes. I'm going hunting. Bass—stay on watch. The rest—set up camp." 

"Shouldn't someone go with him?" Jack asked when Brock was out of earshot.

"He'll want to be alone after that whole shitshow," Hauer said grimly. "Better stop being such a mama bear and get us some firewood."

Jack built a campfire as the others raised the tents. When they were done, Brock returned, holding three hares. He dropped them on the ground next to Jack and sat down on a rock nearby. He picked up a hare to skin it. Jack took one, too. He worked swiftly, listening to his new teammates' conversation, but he didn't have much to contribute. Brock also stayed out of it, fully focused on his task.

The night fell, and Jack took the first watch. He curled in on himself, clenching his rifle with his hands, feeling more on edge on the ground than in the trees. Once, he almost shot a fox when it came too close, but it ran away as soon as it was spotted. He thought back to Deimos, his dog that would have warned him with growling whenever something—or someone—approached. He shook his head, but the memory of Deimos's fur matted with blood came back to him, anyway. He gritted his teeth and stood up to walk off his nervous energy.

He only relaxed after an uneventful hour. He sat back down at the fading campfire, wrapped himself in his blanket, and stifled a yawn. He was letting his eyes rest for a longer while when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He sprang to his feet, grabbing the attacker by one arm and pressing his knife against his throat.

"Woah, woah, there," Brock soothed him. "Sleeping on the watch?"

Jack sheepishly let him go. "Sorry."

"S'fine, I'll remember not to sneak up on you." Brock smoothed out his shirt. "I came to change you. You can sleep in my tent if you like, I don't want you to fall from a tree."

Jack considered it, then nodded. He was a little drowsy, and a night in a sleeping bag sounded comfy. "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it." Brock sat down on the rock Jack had previously occupied, settling in for his watch. 

Brock was the only one in the team who had a tent for himself. Jack crawled inside his sleeping bag and zipped it up as far as it would go. It was warm and soft, unlike a sturdy branch, and he easily fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack woke up in the morning. He was alone in the tent, but Brock's rifle was set beside him, meaning he had been inside. Jack wondered briefly if he slept here with him or just stayed on watch until morning. He heard the campfire crackling and someone walking outside, so he crawled out of the tent to investigate.

"Mornin'," Bass greeted him and sat at the fire with canned food in hand. He was the only one awake, but judging by the sun's position, it was still early.

"Where's Brock?" Jack asked, looking around.

Bass rolled his eyes. "Princess can't go a day without a bath, so he went to look for a stream or something."

Jack gawked at him. "Alone?!"

Bass didn't look concerned. "If he'd want someone to come look at his dick, he'd say so."

Jack retrieved his rifle from Brock's tent and without another glance Bass's way, walked away from the clearing, scanning the area and listening in for any sounds of splashing.

"And where are you going?" Bass called after him. 

Jack ignored him, shouldered the rifle, and climbed the nearest tree. He stopped halfway and looked around. From there, he could see a bigger clearing with a small lake just a couple miles away, but he couldn't see if there was anyone there. Either way, he walked that way, once again sticking to the trees, and he was glad he did ten minutes later when he noticed another camp set nearby. There were only two tents and three men sitting around the fire, eating and talking. Jack hesitated. It was a great opportunity to take them out, but he wasn't sure Brock would approve. On the other hand, they were attacked twice already, they lost a teammate, and that camp was too close to theirs. It was more than probable those men would become trouble if Jack let them live now.

Holding his breath, Jack soundlessly reached for his rifle and crouched. He aimed and watched his targets through the scope. Neither was holding a weapon as they were too busy eating. One had a gun in his thigh holster, the other had a rifle rested on the ground beside him. The third probably had throwing knives on him. The other two were a bigger threat, so Jack aimed at the one with the rifle first. He slowly breathed out and pulled the trigger.

The two sprang to their feet as their friend face-planted onto the ground, yelling at each other. They drew their weapons, looking around, and Jack took out the one with the gun next. The one with a throwing knife jumped behind the tree, and Jack waited for him to move. But the longer he waited, the longer Brock was on his own, possibly in danger, so he gave up soon, and trying to be as quiet as possible, he continued on his way to the lake.

Another ten minutes passed before the trees began thinning, revealing a clear view of a toned body crouched on the waterside. Jack recognized Brock's wide shoulders and seeing he was safe, sighed in relief. He was debating coming down when Brock whirled around with his gun in his hands, scanning the trees.

"Who's there?" he demanded. "Jack, is that you?"

"Yeah," Jack called out to calm him down. 

He climbed down onto the lowest branch and jumped to the ground. Brock watched him warily with his gun still trained on him. Jack raised his hands to show he wasn't holding any weapons.

"Did you tail me?" Brock asked, lowering his gun a little. 

Jack shrugged. "Bass said you went out here alone."

"So you, what? Thought you'd come watch?"

Jack tried not to focus on both Brock's phrasing and the fact he was standing before him naked and on display. He kept his eyes firmly on Brock's face. "Isn't that what teammates are for?"

Brock rolled his eyes and finally dropped the gun. He turned back to the lake, sat down on the bank, and gathered water into his cupped hands. "I wanted to be alone for a while, but since you’re already here, you might as well join me."

"Join you?" Jack asked, startled.

Brock sent him a dark look over his shoulder. "Yeah, I don't know how to tell you that, but..." He frowned and shrugged. "Well, you stink."

Jack let out a surprised chuckle. "A couple nights in the forest will do that, I guess."

He joined Brock on the bank and took off his rifle and knives first. He set them beside Brock's pile of clothes, then undressed, starting from his boots and working his way up. He was taking off his shirt when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he realized he'd been watched. He glanced at Brock and met his penetrating gaze. He froze with his eyebrows raised.

"See something you like?" Brock looked away, and Jack didn't miss how his cheeks darkened. It was... interesting, to say the least. He finished stripping and dipped his feet in the cool water. "It's nice."

Brock snorted. "What, bathing? Yeah, you get used to it. Some even do it daily."

Jack shoved him playfully. "I meant the water's nice, you asshole."

"Name calling? I see you're a man of culture." Brock slowly stood up. "Up for a swim?"

Jack looked at their weapons left on the ground. "I'm not sure we should."

Brock nodded. "We probably shouldn't." He waded deeper into the lake. "So?"

It was a side of Brock Jack didn't expect he had. They were all skittering on the edge of danger just by being here, but voluntarily leaving his weapons behind just to enjoy a swim was on a completely another level. Jack prided himself in thinking he had more self-preservation than that, and yet Brock's tempting smile had him standing up and following him to the center of the lake.

"What if someone finds us?" he asked.

"We're alone, trust me," Brock replied dismissively. 

"There's a guy ten minutes away from here."

"So you spared someone." Jack frowned at him in question, and Brock explained, "I heard gunshots."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Wasn't so hard to put two and two together once you showed up here."

They floated near the center of the lake, watching each other curiously, though Jack kept glancing at their weapons on the bank. Brock sighed loudly seeing this. 

"There's something else I lied about to the team."

That had Jack's full attention. He raised his eyebrow, and Brock took a deep breath and continued.

"We didn't all have the same training. Mine was different. Pierce hired the best of the best to turn me into the perfect Hydra soldier." He paused, letting the meaning of those words sink in. "Among other things, I learned a funny thing about sight: it makes you blind. You rely on your sight too much, Rollins. I not only see, but hear and sense that we're alone here. That's how I knew you were following us in the first place."

Nodding, Jack slowly relaxed. He still thought they were taking a risk, but he trusted Brock to keep them both out of the harm’s way. Once he stopped worrying about being ambushed, he started appreciating how nice being submerged in cool, clean water on this hot day felt, and how close Brock's bare body floated to his. Brock grinned as if he could hear his thoughts.

"Hey," he murmured. "Look at this."

Jack looked down curiously, and a big wave hit him in the face. Brock burst into laughter. Jack stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You should see your face," Brock said with a teasing smirk. 

Jack wiped his wet face, then hit the water hard, splashing Brock. Brock laughed again and dived underwater.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked. 

He was expecting an attack, so the tug on his ankle didn't surprise him, but it still pulled him under. His eyes burned at the contact with water, but before he closed them, he saw Brock emerging. He grabbed him and pulled down. They sparred underwater for a few seconds, then came up for air. Brock was laughing delightedly, the sound making warmth pool in Jack's chest. They were still holding onto each other, and when their eyes met, Brock's laugh faded into silence. They were so close Jack could see droplets of water clinging to Brock's eyelashes. Brock's hands felt hot on his skin. Time seemed to stop as they took each other in, breathing each other's air. They leaned in simultaneously, and their lips met. Brock's mouth was as hot as his touch, curious and open, and after a moment of feeling him out, Jack breached it with his tongue. His hands left Brock's arm to run down his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat and his muscles twitching under his touch. Brock mirrored his movements, but let him take over, let him grip his hips and pull him against his chest, gasping into his mouth at the contact.

Then it was over, and Brock was moving away.

"I think we won't get any cleaner," he said, wading out of the lake. "Not without soap."

Jack stood still for a moment, catching his breath and willing his heart to stop pounding. Brock was already halfway to the bank before Jack gathered his wits enough to follow him.

"So you were looking," he mused.

Brock shot him an amused look over his shoulder. "You were looking first."

Jack nodded, not even ashamed that Brock knew he had been peeping on him bathing before. "You got me there."

Brock grinned. They reached the bank and got dressed, though Brock tucked his t-shirt inside his pants pocket, leaving his skin bare to dry in the sun. They collected their weapons and walked back to their campsite in silence, stealing glances at one another. Awkwardness crept up on Jack; he kept wanting to say something, anything, but didn't know what. They reached the camp grounds faster than he expected, and seeing everyone was awake and at the campfire, having breakfast, Jack briefly wondered how long they were gone.

"Look, Princess and her Knight in Shining Armor are back," Bass commented when he saw them approaching.

"Fuck you, Bass," Brock replied and dived inside his tent. 

Jack took a seat at the fire between Hauer and his friends. They weren't as amused as Bass and Rick. Hauer was especially gloomy, focused on eating and not talking to anybody, and Jack guessed he was still grieving.

Brock returned, holding a can of body spray. He sprayed himself, making Bass wave his hand in front of his face, faking a cough.

"You could use some." Brock sprayed his face, and Bass's fake cough turned into a real one. "You stink. You all stink."

"So do you," Rick commented, earning a spray in the face.

They finished eating, and any conversations between them died. Hauer cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention, but he was looking straight at Brock. His eyes were red.

"What now?" he asked. 

Brock considered him, face unreadable. The air between them became thick, and Jack tensed, expecting a fight breaking out any moment.

"I think," Hauer continued when no one said anything, "That Russ was right. We should hunt down the rest."

"I'm sorry you didn't go with him," Brock said.

"I'm not. I think you're a better leader than him. I just don't understand why we're sitting here doing nothing while Brian's body is rotting."

The team murmured in agreement. Brock sighed. He watched the fire for a long while, wringing his hands. Nobody said anything more, waiting for his decision. Finally, Brock looked up, locking eyes with Jack.

"You said there was a camp."

Jack nodded. "Ten minutes away from here. I killed two, the last one fled," he lied. 

"We're easily the largest group." Brock looked about his teammates’ faces. "We'll divide into smaller teams and scout the nearest grounds. I'm thinking a two-miles radius, not more. Kill any strangers on sight, then return here. Rick, you okay to go?"

Rick nodded. "I feel good."

"Okay. Go with Bass and Hauer. Jack, you're with me."

They put out the campfire, gathered their gear, and headed out. Jack and Brock went east, the other way than the lake. They walked in silence for a while, and Jack couldn't decide if it was awkward or easy. 

"You're probably wondering why we didn't do this from the start," Brock said suddenly. "Why I didn't agree with Russ when he demanded it."

"Sure," Jack replied, though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely; in the lake, with Brock in his arms.

"It wasn't some power play. I already told you I got a different training. They have no chance against me. Not even you lot." Jack nodded; he suspected as much. "I want Pierce to get what he wants, and that is the best nine of you lot. Doesn't matter if you're with me or against me. If I want it to be fair, I can't engage." He met Jack's gaze. "That means I won't be doing any hunting. You're on your own. You can hide in the trees if you want."

"I'm fine on the ground," Jack said. "What about Russ?"

Brock's expression hardened. "Russ didn't finish his training. He’s been led to believe this trial is his last chance."

"But he's your last test."

Brock nodded. "I shouldn't care. He's not even my friend. But truth is, I don't have any friends. No family. I guess I'm as close to him as I've ever been to anyone." Jack raised his eyebrow, and Brock elbowed him with a smile. "Alright, a little less close. My point’s that I don't have too many attachments to choose from."

Jack nodded. "I understand." He was in a similar situation. He never really had any close friends and he didn't make new ones in jail. The relationship with his family had become strained after that. He knew they still cared about him, but he hadn't contacted them since Garrett got him out. He felt closer to him now than his own mother. "Why are you telling me all this, though? You don't strike me as a sharing type. You lied to the rest of the guys."

"Are you asking me what I see in you?" Brock asked with a smirk, but quickly sobered up. He turned away, looking straight ahead. "Look, I ain’t gay, okay? Not really."

"Whatever you say, Brock, but I won't lie: I'm gay as fuck."

Brock's laugh to that was startled and unguarded.

"How long did your training last?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "Half a year?"

"Mine two years. All work, no play. After such a long time, you start missing other things. And I don't think I've seen one woman since Pierce picked me up, so." Brock shrugged. "I don't mind sucking face with a guy. But I ain’t… well, into those things. So don't get weird when I start picking up women when we finally get outta here."

For a long moment, Jack didn't know how to answer. He stared ahead now, too, avoiding looking at Brock. "Will you care if I get weird?" he asked finally.

Brock sighed. "I let you get close because you earned my trust, okay? And it ain't easy. But you—you were looking out for me from the start, which is more than anyone else ever bothered to do. Not even Pierce, not really. If I die here, his only regret will be the resources he wasted on me. So even if you're only doing that because Garrett told you to—which I don't think is true—" Jack heard a smile in his voice and glanced at him only to promptly look away when Brock caught him— "It's enough for me to consider you my friend." He cocked his head. "Or an ally, at least. And those are hard to come by. So yes, I will care a little if you get weird." He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face him so suddenly that Jack looked into his eyes despite trying to avoid that. Brock offered a small reassuring smile. "Enough of my sob story. You know more about me now than I do about you." 

Jack braced himself, expecting Brock to start asking him personal questions, but instead, he looked at his watch. 

"Two miles," he said. "No one's close."

Going into survival mode, Jack looked up the nearest tree. He caught a thick branch growing low and pulled himself up. He climbed high swiftly and looked around. He couldn't see any smoke, and if there were any camps nearby, they were well camouflaged. He climbed down, shaking his head at Brock.

"Let's split up," Brock said. "We'll go another two miles left and right and meet here in an hour."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you say you wouldn't be doing any hunting?"

Brock shrugged. "If I find somebody, I'll tell you where."

It was as good an idea as any, so Jack marked the tree they stood at, cutting an X into the bark, and they split ways. As soon as Brock was out of his sight, he returned to the trees. His journey took longer that way, as he needed to watch his step and maneuver between the branches, but he felt safer scouting out enemies from the top.

He walked for thirty minutes, watching hares and roes running below and occasionally scaring birds off the trees. He was gradually relaxing, walking faster as he did, when he saw a small clearing and froze, scanning it. He didn't notice the tents right away as they were well hidden between the bushes. A man marched from behind a thick tree, tense and alert with a rifle resting against his shoulder. Jack reached for his own rifle and crouched down. He aimed and looked through the scope; some branches were in the way, preventing a killing shot. Jack huffed in annoyance, lowering the rifle. He'd need to come closer.

He was about to climb another tree when something else drew his attention. Hidden between the foliage was a camera. With his eyebrows raised, Jack took a closer look at it through the scope. It was aimed at the camp. A chill ran down his spine when he realized it had to belong to a forester. A stranger who could just become a witness to Jack killing strangers. It was too far away for him to tamper with it, and he decided he would take care of it after he was done here.

He was climbing from one tree to another as quietly as he could when the man turned around to greet someone approaching him. Jack stopped in his tracks; it was Russ. He watched them talk for a moment, too far away to make out any words, before he finally gathered enough courage to keep moving. He circled the trunk and climbed to the next tree, the movement of the branches scaring birds off. They flew right over Russ and the other man, cawing, and they stopped talking to look. Jack held his breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Thankfully, they must have decided it was nothing, because they continued talking. Jack stepped onto another branch, wincing at how it made the leaves rustle, crouched again and aimed the rifle at the stranger's back. He hesitated though; if he shot him now, he'd have to kill Russ, too, before he found him out, and he was supposed to be Brock's kill. 

As he sat there, debating what to do, Russ moved swiftly and suddenly, firing his gun in his direction. His thigh flared up, and he yelped, lost his balance, and fell six meters onto the undergrowth, the impact knocking air out of his lungs, and rolled off onto the ground. He groaned, the sound dying in his throat when he realized he had been found out and shot. He heard footsteps approaching him rather leisurely, and he tried to pull himself up. His back and arms ached, his ears were ringing, and black splotches covered his vision. He let his head drop back on the ground despite the panic at the realization he was now at Russ's mercy setting in.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" He heard through the ringing and saw a silhouette approach out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't see well, but he knew it was Russ. "Did Rumlow send you, or did you leave his sorry ass, too?"

Jack's sight lined up with the black eye of Russ's gun, and he realized he was seconds from having his head blown. He felt too sore and weak to do anything about it, the throbbing pain behind his eyes preventing him from thinking clearly enough to figure out any way of action. He just lay there, staring up, letting the fear of being seconds away from his end overtake him.

Russ didn't pull the trigger though, watching him with a mix of curiosity and disgust. Jack didn't see the kick coming; the steel-toe boot collided with his ribs, sending a jolt of hot pain up his chest. Jack curled up on himself, spitting out blood. In the back of his mind, he had a calming thought that if he could do that, at least his back wasn't broken. Not that it mattered if he was dead.

"You thought you could come from the fucking trees like a fucking savage and take my place? Pathetic." 

The anger behind Russ's words sank through Jack's skin to his thrumming heart. He felt a sudden shot of energy, and his body swung itself to the side as though it had a mind of its own. A bullet hit the ground where Jack's head had just lain, spraying dirt over him. That caused another rush of adrenaline course through his body, and suddenly he was pulling himself up. His shot leg flared up, so instead of trying to stand, he crawled away. He was breathing hard, sweat running down his forehead, but he pushed himself forward inch by an agonizing inch. He could feel both Russ and the other man watch him, then heard Russ step softly forward. He wasn't in a hurry, and Jack was hit with a sudden, cold reality of being nothing but a scared worm that was about to be crushed under Russ's boot. His energy left him as quickly as it came and he flopped, his arms and legs throbbing with exhaustion, dried leaves sticking to his sweaty face. He breathed in the dry ground and broke into a fit of coughing, his eyes watering. A shadow fell over him, Russ's boots showed in his peripheral vision, and Jack stared at them, bracing himself for another kick.

Gunshots momentarily deafened him, and he jerked. It took him a second to realize he was still alive, and he focused on his aching body, trying to figure out where the bullet pierced him, when the shadow disappeared, and Russ fell next to him with a thump. His chest was rising and falling in quick succession, a red stain growing on his camo t-shirt. Jack couldn't hear footsteps through the ringing that started anew in his ears, but he heard a familiar voice.

"Jack? You okay?"

Jack looked up a black-clad body that entered his peripheral vision. Brock wasn't looking his way, fully focused on Russ, his gun trained on him. Russ raised his head with a snarl, his face now shining with sweat, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Jack?" Brock repeated, his voice even but strained. 

Jack swallowed thickly, but his voice was still a little hoarse when he answered, "I will be." 

"You exchanged me for that wimp?" Russ spat, eyes narrowed. "I thought we were friends."

Jack couldn't see Brock's expression from where he was lying on the ground, his breath slowly settling now that he was rescued, but when Brock spoke, Jack could hear a note of disbelief in his voice.

"We really weren't. I don't even know you all that well. You were keen on hiding your weaknesses. I know of his."

"I don't have any weaknesses!" 

"You do."

Jack jerked when another gunshot sounded right beside him and closed his eyes, but he still saw a bullet destroying Russ's face forever. He only opened them when he felt hands on him. Brock was leaning over him with a bitter smile.

"Bullets," he said. "They're everyone's weakness. Where are you hurt?"

"Just my leg," Jack whispered. 

He felt more than saw Brock look it over, his vision darkening again. He blinked several times to clear it, but it didn't help.

"Is it getting dark?" he asked.

"Nope."

Brock grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him over to the nearest tree to rest his back against it in a half-sitting position. Jack growled in pain when his leg was bent up, giving Brock easy access to his wound.

"I know," Brock soothed. "You're lucky, it went clean through. You're gonna be alright."

His face was pale as he said it though, and Jack didn't quite believe him. He guessed he lost a lot of blood, if the dark spots dancing before his eyes were any indication. But he said nothing as Brock took off his t-shirt and tore it along the seams, creating a long bandage. He wrapped Jack's wound tight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "We need to get the hell outta here." 

He spun around suddenly, his gun back in his outstretched hands. A moment later, two men entered the clearing. Jack recognized his old teammates. Smith was carrying a deer on his shoulder and a crossbow. The other one, whose name Jack never learned, was holding a shotgun. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of two dead bodies of their allies and their ex-leader aiming at them. Brock stepped in front of Jack, the line of his shoulders tense. For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, raising his hands, the other one said,

"We'll let you go if you let us go."

Another moment of tense silence passed before Brock slowly lowered his gun. Still staring at him uneasily, Smith and his friend walked around them towards their campsite, Brock watching their every move. He only turned back to Jack when they disappeared from his sight.

"Can you walk?"

Jack shrugged in response. 

"We have to try. Come on."

Brock grabbed both of his arms and pulled him up. The burning pain in his thigh made Jack black out for a second, and he grabbed onto Brock not to fall.

"Easy, I got you."

Brock threw Jack's arm across his shoulders. With the other hand still holding onto Brock's midsection, Jack slowly limped with him down the path.

"I'm slowing you down," he noticed. They were about an hour away from the campsite, but in their current speed it would take more.

"We ain’t in a hurry," Brock reminded him. "We just need ta get ya to the camp so ya can stitch yourself."

"My rifle," Jack remembered suddenly. "I lost it when Russ shot me."

"We'll get ya a new one."

"What if someone attacks us?"

"They'll be fucking sorry they got in my way."

The sharpness of his voice surprised Jack; he looked up, but Brock was staring straight ahead, not meeting his gaze. His jaw was clenched and his brow slightly furrowed, and Jack realized he was angry, but he wasn't quite sure what got him in that mood. Was it because Jack's carelessness forced him to kill Russ, something he didn't quite want to do?

They crawled down the path, each step making Jack's vision swim even though he was favoring his injured leg. He was slowly registering the other parts of his body aching from the fall, especially his back and head. His face, neck and hands were scraped, and he could feel bruises forming here and there. His ribs still burned every time he took a breath, making him dizzy. Blood was soaking his makeshift bandage until it started dripping down his leg. His vision blacked out again, and the last thing he registered was his knees buckling.

He woke up in a tent. He frowned, looking up at the walls tinted red from the setting sun. His body slowly came back online, the ache setting in again. His thigh burned anew, and with a wince, he propped himself up on his elbows to take a look at it. He waited a bit for his sudden vertigo to fade, then took in the clean bandage around his wound. He touched it gently, running his finger along, then frowned when he felt something underneath. He carefully unwrapped it, revealing a set of neat stitches.

"I probably fucked them up." 

Brock was crouching at the tent entrance, holding a plate stacked with cooked meat. He offered a pale smile and crawled inside. "I only saw it done once."

"Time will tell." Jack wrapped the wound back. "You saved my life."

"I guess so." Brock passed him the plate. "Ya need to keep your energy up to heal."

Jack took the plate and set it on his stomach, but didn't start eating. He stared at Brock in confusion. " _ Why? _ "

Brock frowned. "Why I carried ya back and stitched you up or why ya need ta heal? Cause both are idiotic questions."

Jack shook his head. "You said you wanted Pierce to get the best recruits. That you wouldn't get involved because of that. Russ  _ was _ better. He would've killed me if it wasn't for you.  _ Why? _ "

Brock rolled his eyes. "Let me remind ya, I had to kill him, anyway. Why not save you in the process?"

Jack didn't accept that as an answer. He kept staring at Brock with a slight frown until Brock caved, sighing loudly.

"The best doesn't mean the strongest or the most cunning," he explained, looking away. "You did the same for my teammate. You didn't know him, there was nothing in it for you. Ya just wanted to help, because you could. That alone told me a lot about what kinda teammate you are. Reliable. Loyal. With some unique skills." He stared at the tent entrance for a moment before his eyes flicked to Jack, meeting his gaze. "You're useful to me, Jack, more than Russ ever was. And you don't just let valuable people die."

Jack nodded in acknowledgement, and Brock waved at the plate. 

"Eat."

Jack finally took a better look at what was on the plate; it was too big a piece for it to be a hare. Perhaps a deer. He teared a small piece with his fingers and put it in his mouth.

"I'll check up on ya later," Brock said. "Just focus on resting."

He crawled out of the tent, leaving Jack to eat alone. He ate only a half of what was on his plate before he grew tired, put the plate away and went to sleep.

He wasn't sure what woke him again, but it was dark already with only the weak, dancing light of the campfire seeping through the front of the tent. He listened in for a moment, but it was quiet, with the exception of owls hooting and crickets chirping. Suddenly, the skin on the side of his neck tingled, and he turned his head to meet Brock's dark eyes staring at him. 

"I thought you were asleep," Brock murmured and offered a strained smile.

Jack frowned at that. "What's wrong?"

Brock shrugged, but his half-smile faded. Jack could see him battling with himself, as if he wanted and didn't want to say.

"You can tell me anything," he encouraged.

Brock shook his head. "I know. It's not that, just... You should be focusing on healing now."

Jack couldn't help his amused smile. "Brock, it's not like mending my leg requires conscious effort. What is it?" he asked in a more serious tone. "If it's about anything that happened here, then I should know."

Brock sighed. "You'll find out anyway, so I might as well say it now. We lost Bass." He pursed his lips, and for a moment neither said anything. Jack watched him closely, while Brock stared at a point below Jack's neck. "Hauer said he stayed behind to make sure he and Rick could escape. I don't know why he did that, maybe he thought he'd get outta that alive, maybe that was the only way..." He shook his head. "What can I say, the morale isn't high. Rick thinks it shoulda been him, I told him to shut up and go to sleep, but—" He let out a shaky breath. "I lost another teammate and coulda lost  _ two _ . I'm failing this test so hard."

As Jack watched his eyes turn glassy and his body tremble slightly, it hit him how young and inexperienced he really was. No amount of training could have prepared him for being dropped in the woods to lead a team he didn't know and keep them all from dying. 

Brock flinched when Jack reached out for him to close his hand on his shoulder. All his cockiness had faded like a dream, leaving only fear behind.

"You're not failing it. You still have a team, and you killed Russ."

"Only because of you. I had to do it, I couldn't lose you, too."

"But you did it." Jack squeezed his shoulder. Brock searched his face hopefully. "You don't need to do everything on your own. You're just a person; every leader is. And every person needs a support system. I didn't notice you having one."

"What, like a second-in-command?" Brock mulled it over for a moment, then cracked a small albeit genuine smile. "You're offering yourself for that position?"

Jack shrugged, smiling back. "If you'd like. Really, anything you need."

They watched each other in the dark, their faces barely illuminated by the fire outside, the yellow light reflecting off their eyes. It made Brock's hazel irises appear deep brown. Jack watched his pupils dilate just before he covered the hand on his shoulder with his own, slowly running it up Jack's arm until closing it around his bicep and pulling himself flush against his side. He joined their lips with a need Jack didn't suspect him of. After the initial moment of shock passed, he gave back as good as he got, closing his eyes and twisting his hands into the thick mop of Brock's black hair. He swallowed a grunt Brock let out, and as he climbed on top of him, tongue invading his mouth and hands exploring him beneath his shirt, Jack remembered what he had said about not being gay. He realized that Brock was distracting himself, nothing more, but he was okay with that. He meant what he had said; he was ready to give Brock anything he needed.

Brock sucked in Jack's lower lip, bit it gently, then let it go to kiss down his jaw and neck. He had rolled Jack's shirt all the way up, hands never hesitating, fingers learning him, and as he pulled himself up to look down at him, Jack felt suddenly self-conscious. He never liked the way he looked, always slouching because of how tall and gangly he was. Never letting his skin see the sun made him unattractively pale. He tensed under Brock's curious gaze, and Brock noticed, one hand cupping his face as if to soothe him, but he remained eerily silent. He leaned down again to kiss down his chest, pausing at his nipples to suck and nibble them until he had Jack panting, then licked down his stomach. He froze when his hands reached the waistband of Jack's pants, his hot breath on Jack's lower abdomen making his skin tingle. Jack raised his head to look at him, but Brock was looking at his fly with his brows furrowed.

Raised voices teared through the stillness, and Brock jolted away from Jack. Jack was still recovering his breath when someone hit the wall of Brock's tent.

"Fire!" Hauer yelled.

Jack and Brock exchanged alarmed glances, and gesturing for Jack to stay put, Brock opened the entrance.

"Hey, Hauer, what's up?" he asked.

If Hauer sensed the annoyance in his voice, he ignored it. "Someone must have left their campfire unattended," he said with urgency. "We need to run!"

Brock sent Jack a wild look while he sat up to put his shirt on. The dull pain in his thigh was still present, flaring up with every move. 

"Come on, Jack," Brock said. "Leave everything and come with me."

After they crawled out of the tent and smelled the smoke, they realized it was true. Their team was frozen in their places, staring at the flashes of orange in the distance with their eyes wide. The forest was burning.

"This is not about some test anymore," Brock said. "Leave everything and run!"

Rick was the first one to react; he took off running, and Hauer's friends followed him. Hauer and Jack hesitated though, and Brock glared at them. 

"What are ya waiting for?!"

"You?" Hauer tried.

"I'm right behind ya."

Hauer gave him a wild look, then at the signs of the fire behind him, and followed in his team's footsteps. But Jack didn't move, even despite Brock's growing anger.

"You think I can run anywhere with that leg?" he asked.

"Yes, if you want to live," Brock barked. 

"Shouldn't we take—"

"No! That'll only slow us down!"

"So will I. What are you, a captain of a sinking ship? You can't wait for me."

"Then get outta my sight," Brock spat.

Jack sighed, and knowing he couldn't win, he took off running. He was slower than normal, his leg burning, but he still ran, breathing in the smoke and catching orange flashes out of the corner of his eye. He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but didn't see Brock follow him. 

He ran, then limped, but the forest seemed to have no end. Someone passed him, running at high speed; a stranger that paid him no mind. Finally, Jack slowed down to a stop and leaned against the tree, taking his weight off his injured leg so it could rest. He was breathing heavily, the panic filling him as he looked behind him just to see the trees in the distance burning. The wind carried the smoke to him, and he shut his eyes tightly, coughing. He pushed himself off the tree and kept on running, favoring his injured leg. Finally, the trees started thinning. He felt a shot of energy and sped until he was out, running down the path onto the street. A speeding truck honked at him, and he jumped out of the way onto the opposite sidewalk. Someone grabbed his arm, and he turned their way, ready to defend himself, but it turned out to be Rick. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, and Jack nodded, his heart still hammering in his chest. He looked around; a group of recruits stood to the side, Hauer and his friends together and four other strangers a little farther away from them.

"Someone called for help. F.D. should be here soon."

"Where's Brock?" Jack asked.

He saw it in Rick's face before he shook his head. Jack stared back at the burning forest, now seeing thick wisps of smoke traveling up to the sky. He waited for Brock to appear between the trees with his chest hurting, but minutes passed, and it didn't happen. Realizing Brock had to be in trouble, Jack cursed and ran across the street towards the forest.

"What are you doing?!" Rick yelled. "Stop!"

Jack didn't listen. He ran in between the trees, feeling the hot air and the smoke irritating his throat. Coughing and covering his mouth with his sleeved arm, he looked around, but Brock was nowhere to be seen. The realization of what an idiotic thing he just did began to sink in, but he didn't let himself focus on it. Brock was somewhere in the forest still and needed help, he was sure of it.

He remembered what Brock had told him about relying on his sight too much. He didn't close his eyes, but focused more on his other senses; his hearing, his smell, and the pull he felt in his gut, the same one that made him come back to the woods. Not letting himself question it, he followed the pull, squinting his eyes to see something through the acrid, black smoke and the flames in the distance.

"Brock?!" he yelled, then coughed. "Brock!"

He walked for a minute until his face ran with sweat from the scorching heat. His dry, irritated eyes were constantly tearing up, but Jack reminded himself once again he didn't need to see. He focused on his other senses again and, through the raging fire, he heard his name.

"Brock?!"

It repeated. Wiping his eyes, Jack followed the sound, until finally, in the distance, between the flames, for a second he saw Brock's head before it disappeared behind the smoke again. He was so close to the fire, the air he breathed was hot, burning his nose, throat and lungs. He knew he was teasing death and that going farther would be meeting it.

"Follow my voice!" he tried to yell over the crackling fire.

For a moment nothing happened, and the spreading fire forced Jack back. 

"You have to run through the fire!" he tried again. "Follow my voice!"

His throat quickly became hoarse, and he burst into another fit of coughing. He was forced to back away farther, where the ash-filled air wasn't as hot. He stared at the spot where he saw—or  _ thought  _ he did, but didn't let himself doubt—Brock's head. Soon, something moved between the flames. A silhouette swiftly approached him.

"Brock!" Jack yelled again and again, guiding him with his voice, until Brock was out of the flames, howling in pain. 

Jack realized his pants were on fire, and taking off his t-shirt, ran to him. They met in the middle, and Jack beat the flames out with it. Brock grabbed his arm as if to make sure he was real, tears running down his red cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

But there was no time for talking; they weren't out of the woods yet. Jack took Brock's hand in his and pulled, leading him out of the forest and onto the street. The throbbing pain in his leg echoed in his head, and when they were finally out of the harm's way, his knees buckled under him and he fell with a growl. Brock turned back, a beginning of a question on his the tip of his tongue, but seeing three ambulances in the distance, Jack pushed him into Rick who was approaching them with a relieved look on his face.

"Make sure he gets help," Jack said, sitting down and examining his scraped knees. He winced, but he barely felt them over the pulsing in his thigh.

He sat there, breathing so hard it made him dizzy. A paramedic approached him with an oxygen mask, and Jack gladly took it. He was looked over and asked about the stitches; he lied he got them in a hospital, so they wouldn't insist on taking him there. Garrett would check them after that nightmare ended.

He was once again left alone, and he breathed in the oxygen, a feeling of peace washing over him. He survived—but was the trial done? He looked again at the survivors and counted them. His blood ran cold when he understood that with him, there were exactly ten.

He thought back to the camera he found in the tree and realized it didn't belong to any forester, but to Hydra. They never let them out of their sight, and maybe... Maybe when the end of the week was coming closer and there were still too many recruits... Maybe the fire wasn't an accident.

He tried to tell himself it couldn't have been true, but the more he thought about it, about how confident Pierce was only ten would survive, the more he knew it was. It filled him with dread.

Brock sat down next to him. His eyes were dry now, but his face still red from the heat. His legs were dressed where the fabric of his pants burned away.

"You saved me," Brock said, having taken his mask off. His voice was hoarse. "Why?"

Jack smiled. "It feels like now we're just trying to one up each other, doesn't it?"

"But... how did you know?"

Brock stared at him, unmoving, and Jack guided his mask back onto his face.

"I just did," he answered. "I stopped relying on my sight and found you."

Brock pulled the mask away again, his lips mirroring Jack's small smile. "Someone notified  _ them _ ." He looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "They'll be here soon."

Jack nodded, unsure how he felt about it. The thought that Hydra orchestrated the fire still unnerved him, but he longed to see Garrett.

Brock looked away. "It's best... No one makes immediate assumptions about—" He shrugged, not knowing how to finish. "I'll wait over there."

He stood up and thanked Jack for saving his life before putting the mask back on and walking away. They didn't wait long for Hydra to arrive. A group of men approached the paramedics and firefighters, while recruiters went to get their recruits. Jack couldn't help a grin when he saw Garrett approaching.

"I knew I'd see you here, boy!" Garrett said with a smile. "Why are you on your ass?"

"I got shot," he replied quietly enough for no one else to hear him. "I thought I'd let my leg rest after all the running."

Garrett helped him up and led him to his car. Jack looked over his shoulder and saw someone talking to Brock; it must have been one of his many instructors. Brock glanced his way and their eyes met for half a second before Brock turned away.

"We could get burgers," Garrett said as they got in his car.

"I think I just wanna sleep." Jack leaned his head against the backrest.

"You can sleep on the way."

Jack was thinking about Brock through the entire ride to the town, but when Garrett parked at the burger place, he was sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling to comment and reply recently--just can't find the mental energy to do it--but I'd like to thank you for your comments. I'm relieved to see you liking this fic as, at the last minute, I felt that it might be boring. I'm glad to see that wasn't the case.
> 
> I'm going to take a short break from writing, but there's two more fics I wanna write for the bingo, so you can expect them to show up this month.


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